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Returning home, I thought, was going to be safe. There are a few years left before he’s supposed to get out of prison. The victim’s advocacy network swore they would tell me if that changed or when he gets out, but I guess with all my moves it can be hard to keep track of me. Maybe the information is lost in the mail somewhere. I can’t look it up now- Josiah has everything locked down to keep the outside world at bay- and I don’t want to ask Josiah to check for me.
I don’t want him to know all the ways I failed. I’ve worked so hard to erase the guilt, but it’s slamming back into me again now. It feels like it just happened.
The door clicks and I swivel around to watch Josiah lead in an older, curly-haired man. The doctor is shorter than Josiah, and of a smaller stature- although I guess most people are smaller than Josiah.
“Phoebe, this is Doc. Doc, that’s Phoebe.” Josiah’s eyes lock onto me over Doc’s head as they approach, and Josiah takes his seat at the table again to eat his breakfast as Doc stops in front of me. I’d expected him to go to another room to offer privacy, but I’m glad he doesn’t. It’s hard for me to trust new people, and seeing the stranger in a vest made for outlaws isn’t the most comforting.
Doc stops in front of me and points at Josiah. “You can stand and eat. Give up the chair.”
Josiah narrows his eyes, but stands from his chair and rolls it towards the other man. “Asshole,” he says with a grin and his voice lacks any heat.
“Courtesy hasn’t changed.” Doc drops into the chair, leaving a fair amount of distance between us that eases some of my worry. “Hi, Phoebe. I don’t have time to try to sugarcoat things, so I’m going to be blunt and if that upsets you, let me know. Skids says you’re having a lot of anxiety attacks.”
Skids?My gaze swings to Josiah, but then I look away, too nervous to face either of them at the moment. “That’s true.”
“Is there anything specifically that causes them?”
“Something happened a long time ago. It’s got a way of coming back to haunt me.”
Doc cracks a grim smile. “That happens.”
I lean my forehead against the tiles in the shower as the hot water blasts over my back. Doc knows a lot of big words and he trotted them all out for me, before catching sight of my confusion and summarizing in a way that made sense to me.
“Your brain is used to being in danger. It doesn’t understand the difference between the fear of a shadow and the fear of being murdered, and the flashbacks are your brain’s way of trying to cope. You didn’t know what to do in the situation at the time, whatever it was, and now you have to keep reliving it. That way you feel like you’ve experienced it enough times to handle it better should it ever happen again.”
He gave me pills for every day, every night, and during ‘emergencies’ like an anxiety attack. He assured Josiah, more than me, that the medicine will start to help in a few weeks and I’ll start to change. He and Josiah spoke privately,about me, before he left, and I snuck off to shower.
I’m not afraid of the medicine, but it’s overwhelming. I’ve had myself convinced that nothing’s wrong, that my breathing just gets a little exaggerated sometimes and my heart sometimes races but that’s not because I’msick. But that’s wrong. All those things I told myself are lies. My brain is disordered and diseased and the parts that are supposed to be solid are full of holes. I’m fucked up and broken and that alone is enough to induce panic.
There might be tears, but no one has to know- not even me- while the water beats down on my face. It’s been eight years. I should be over this shit by now. I’m being weak and my weakness is now affecting Josiah and his life. If I was stronger, I wouldn’t be so defeated by things that occurred before I was even an adult.
Chapter Thirteen
Skids
Doc’s visit made things worse. I expected as much, but I’m hoping that it’s just the ‘worse before it gets better’ kind of thing. Phoebe has been quiet since he left. For the past couple of days she’s been just sitting. She stares at her phone all day long, silent like a statue as she reinvents the wheel to avoid boredom instead of just talking to me.
Phoebe takes her medicine when I offer it, but she rarely comes out of her shell. I’m not sure what she’s doing on that device that she finds so goddamn interesting, but it’s annoying me like an itch you can’t scratch. She’s right here and still so far away. If I could pretend she wasn’t here, it might be easier. But she insists on cooking every meal and sitting across the table from me, even if she’s going to do it silently.
She’s also got bright hair like the feathers of a peacock that makes her impossible to ignore. Knowing all the things she’s done to hide herself away, the hair color confuses me. Why make yourself so recognizable and memorable if that’s the last thing you want?
Her exterior is just as confounding as the thoughts she’s keeping locked up inside her brain. She’s always wearing these black jeans or black skirts- both are provocative, at least to me. The tightness of her jeans or the short length of her skirts makes it hard to do fucking anything while she’s in the same room.
The intrusive thoughts have been bugging me. So while she’s been silent and refused to act as a distraction for me, I’ve been battling the idea that she may some day try to leave me- leave here- and she’ll expect me to be a good person and let her go. But I don’t think I can.
Phoebe is stuck inside her head about something too, and I’ve had enough of her silence. Having someone else here just to watch them sulk is stifling. I’d rather die.
“Get up,” I demand as I push away from my desk to stand in front of her. I’m going to have her attention. She’s going to give me words in her pretty voice, no matter what I have to do to get them.
Her eyes are slow to leave her phone and look up at me. “Huh?”
“Come on. I’m going to show you something.” I’ll take her down into the basement and show her how to fight. That way if I ever do decide to let her go, she’ll know how to protect herself.
She sighs and turns her focus back to that tiny damn screen, and I snatch it from her hands. Finally, I get her undivided attention. “Give it back!”
I hold her phone up above my head and smirk down at her. “I will when we’re done. Come downstairs with me.”
“Josiah,” she whines, but I shake my head.
